


Out of the Hollow

by Etnoe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe
Summary: Soldiers, not heroes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).



On first mutual introduction, the three occupants of room A-III, Avery Patel Barracks had a simultaneous reaction that could be summarised as: No. Wrong.

*

"Children. Tiny, squalling brats, a _robot_ and a _frat boy_. Juvenile dumbasses - who I will be expected to tolerate on a daily basis, and who actually happen to be less juvenile than most inhabitants of this campus. I might start liking the dumbasses through sheer lack of choice! Especially as the whole pseudo-black ops military setting conforms my mind into a mould where yelling and yapping are attractive qualities in regressed know-nothing assholes throwing their weight around about a room of which the kindest thing you can say is that they mostly got the smell of last year's puke out."

Clint told this to his hands, held over his face with thumbs pressing into his temples. He'd probably said a lot of the same thing to the two kindergartners - he'd been too pointlessly angry to actually pay attention to what he was yelling - so it wasn't like talking to himself was any more embarrassing and stupid, and maybe he could get it out of his system and then proceed not to talk to his roommates for the rest of the year. That could count as being polite. Pretty much.

*

"We were in the right. We weren't unreasonable," said Bucky. "Right? What the fuck, he has me starting to think I'm the one who's a raving lunatic. That guy has to be on some kind of highly illegal stimulant - but no, they screen for drugs on entry to the Academy grounds, so it's probably all natural." The thought had him edging towards awe in nearly equal share to his irritation. "Of course we'd ask what the hell he's doing in our room when nobody even told us there was supposed to be a roommate! Who there isn't even a room for in the first place. How much rhetorical yelling about our apparently questionable mental stability and heritage does that really require? _What_ a _douchebag_!"

*

"It's only very nearly a violation of the fire safety code to have a third bed in our room," Natasha said some minutes later, by which time Bucky had moved on to the subject of exploring the base and the nearby town while they were still allowed some free rein. Natasha closed the tabs on her tablet showing the schematics of their room and SHIELD Regulations and Rules and then added, "And yeah, don't start. I might want to stick to the rules around this place, and I might want them to stick to the rules for us too, but that doesn't mean you have any right to say anything about a stick having been introduced to my ass."

Bucky gave the helpless snort-laugh that usually followed when Natasha imitated his usage of metaphorical language, put and arm around his shoulders, and they set forth.

*

The next time the three of them saw each other was about two hours later in a deli halfway up a hill, its view of the bay obscured by a window display of bundles of dried herbs, sheaves of wheat, and a club-like salami. Reactions varied this time. Bucky's intentionally obnoxious but unwittingly loud one-man debate about whether or not the massive salami was real had Clint leaning away from the baked goods counter to see who was talking, and drove Natasha towards Clint despite the antagonism in their first encounter. Bucky tagged along, surprising himself by being willing to be amused by Clint Barton, his newest, most tenuously stable acquaintance, and what he might yell about now.

Clint handed Natasha and Bucky a box each as soon as they were close enough. "How's this for a coincidence," he said, with his voice inclining more to the impression that it was a trial for his patience. "For you."

They flipped the lid and found cupcakes on the same massive scale as the salami - bricks of red velvet each topped with a tower of white icing.

"Thank you," Natasha said, shutting the box and tucking it underarm.

"Is this sarcasm?" said Bucky, eyes travelling slowly from his cupcake to Clint in a way suggesting that these were two near-irreconcilable extremes that could most plausibly be united by poison.

"The world might never know," Clint said, and sighed. "It's an apology for my behaviour. I've been to this place before-" he waved a hand around the deli "-there was a whole family thing with my brother, and anyway, that's when I found out that it's got some good food to stock up with for the base, and the bakery's pretty good. These are supposedly hypoallergenic, too, which I thought was a good idea just in case."

"And they still taste good? Huh." Bucky crammed his into his face and proceeded to look delighted and yell with his mouth full.

"He said 'Just like real cream cheese icing'," said Natasha, "if you want to know."

Clint watched Bucky morosely and then turned to Natasha. "He require a lot of translating?"

"You'll find out soon enough. We're going to have plenty of time to get to know each other."

"Hey, why the hell is a woman rooming with two guys, anyway?"

"SHIELD is entirely willing to believe me when I say that I'm comfortable with it."

"She can take really good care of herself," Bucky mumbled as he swallowed.

"Maybe try the talking after the swallowing," Clint said, and couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, but kept saying them anyway. "Nobody ever taught you to mind your manners?"

"Animal. Like I was raised in a barn. It's disgusting," Bucky said, and clapped Clint on the back. "Seriously, though, don't talk about anything that could be construed as being rude about my mother. And now we're going to get you a beer. _I_ think that counts as excellent manners, and I can in fact tell it's very nice of you to make this gesture with the cupcakes. So let's all keep trying to get along, huh? It's not like Natasha and I had to freak out that hard about an intrusion on our domain, either. First round's on me. I've even got a place in mind that we passed a little way back."

Clint nodded slowly, then more decisively gestured that the other two lead the way. He adopted a tactic of silence, responding only when directly addressed, and otherwise occupied himself with looking at the people around them, and when a glimpse offered itself, the bay in the sunset. Bucky's tactic was to allow this without comment, talking to both him and Natasha but not directly asking Clint for responses. Natasha spoke to both as and when he deemed it appropriate, and gave Bucky's treatises and Clint's bare syllables the same attention.

*

"There's enough yeast in here that this counts as breaking bread together. By ancient custom in various cultures, that means we're no longer allowed to kill each other." He looked pointedly at Clint.

"I'm less inclined towards murder after a cold beer anyhow."

"Same here," Natasha said.

" _Really_ ," said Clint. "I guess this is part of the whole thing where you're allowed to do your training in mixed rooms. This is a learning experience."

Bucky nodded, intent on peeling the label off his bottle. "Yeah, like, it gets easier and easier to tell all the time when you're giving people unnecessary shit."

Clint looked at Natasha, and Natasha arched an eyebrow back at him. "Then at least we're on equal ground," Clint pointed out. "It's not like you had to sound so _serious_ about the murder comment. You had me shaking in my boots, there."

"That is something to strive for in social interaction. And so is equal ground," Natasha said, and lifted her mug of tea. "We could toast to it."

"Are you guys getting along? I can't tell," Bucky said, looking less tense as Clint rolled his eyes and touched his bottle to Natasha's mug. He offered Clint a grin. "You're off probation, so you know. I was going to get you kicked out of our room. Had plans lined up. Any means necessary."

"Asshole."

Bucky leaned towards Clint across the table. "I desperately want to confirm your fears about me and say 'I know you are, but what am I?'"

Clint snorted to cover mild embarrassment at his thoughts about how childish Bucky were being so accurately read. "Oh, a wise guy."

"No," Natasha said. "He's not."

It was the first thing that evening (and probably that _week_ ) to make Clint Barton crack a smile, through sheer deadpan precision and the way Bucky threw his hands up and exclaimed Natasha's name.

"With friends like these," he told Clint.

Clint shrugged. "You're the one who precluded murder."

*

The whole preclusion of murder thing made it pretty ironic how little time it took for both of them to try and kill her.

*

"So! Mind control!" Natasha said. Her voice cracked; she sounded broken. The only real visible sign of the toll it had all taken on her was how wide her eyes were. The rest of her body was at ready to keep fighting, poised and strong, her knives held in just the kind of grip they were all here to have improved.

"SOP for around here. Builds you up. Clearly," said Clint, both hands against his temples to keep his head together. He remembered how Barney had _not really_ come back from SHIELD's special training. He carefully got up from the ground and helped Bucky to stand, too.

"You should have one of the real beds," he told Natasha. "Never mind the way you're the only one who fits on the little camp bed doohicky. After this, you need real rest and real door that locks."

"Well, shit," said Bucky. It was entirely possible that he'd made a resolution never to look at Natasha again, from the way he'd been taking in the floor since she'd laid him out on it, but he was taking Clint in with new eyes. "You're a big softie. That's why you've been such a jackass for so long."

"Yeah, now you're the one on the camp bed. Good luck curling up in there, champ," Clint said, and disappeared into the room he usually used.

He hadn't expected the other two to join him, curling up in their own lump to one side of him, still pressing against him. The beds were bigger than you'd get in an actual army barracks – SHIELD wanted to make like it was special to be here.

"Why am I getting dragged into the co-dependency?" Clint said.

"Most likely they're breaking us up internally and in terms of external dynamics, too," Bucky said. "Maybe it'll throw 'em for a loop if we end up getting out of it better on the other side."

"I could probably still take you," Natasha said, and it sounded like she'd honestly assessed the possibility. "And I'd rather know the next thing they try and throw at all of us, instead of being picked at one by one."

*

Then it turned out that regularly sharing a bed was a problem. All Clint had wanted to do was retrieve a different pair of boots; he'd opened the door, taken one step across the threshold and had rocked back, wincing. Bucky was loose-limbed in sleep in a way that gave him a heavy look, and it made Jim think of being pressed down. Maybe play-fighting against it and pushing back, maybe staying still to feel it in full. How could he possibly not have the right to climb on the bed too? He wanted to so much. It was his bed and his stupid sheets that were one of the few things he'd managed to get from home. Not his guy, though.

Was he Natasha's guy? That looked like a yes-and-no situation. They could be anything to each other, their movements so constantly and naturally mirrored he could only imagine their experiences had been similar, and shared for a long time, at that.

Could he imagine doing that play-fighting with Natasha, too? Yeah, even more so. She'd go along with it right up until she figured out what he wanted from it, and then god knew what she'd do with the information.

Relationships were a terrible idea. Always had been.

But Clint always had been one to take a long time to learn a lesson.

*

He opened up his posture over the next few nights. Natasha was the first one to take him up on the silent invitation; Bucky, after a while, started being the one to fold over him. 'Safe' was a weird thing to feel, even to the small degree that Clint felt it now.

All three of them, though – they could learn to live with any number of strange things. Kisses here and there, out of sight of the instructors and the cameras? Hah, couldn't even begin to count.


End file.
